


yes no maybe

by jeannedarc



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, fluffy garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 03:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarc/pseuds/jeannedarc
Summary: Jaehwan swears that he might be in love. Just a little bit.





	yes no maybe

**Author's Note:**

> i literally wrote this in half an hour and my beta Says nothing's wrong with it and i trust them so sorry if there really truly is

Autumn is definitely setting in, because everyone is rushing inside, scarves wound round their necks and jackets pulled tight around their chests, trying to beat the chill that’s come to meet them outside. Jaehwan isn’t terribly different from the rest of them -- he’s on his way home after an hour-long lecture about molecular biology when he basically decides ‘fuck it’ and stops into the busy diner at the edge of campus. The two small dining rooms are packed, and he has to wait ten minutes to get a table for one, but it’s nothing to him so long as he gets his hands wrapped around a warm mug of something, staves off the cold threatening to overwhelm him.

The diner is cute, cozy, homey even -- peach walls and black-and-white vintage photographs lining them, small tables in the front, big ones in the back. The hostess looks like she's on her last leg when she guides Jaehwan to her seat. He feels bad for her, enough to offer one of his award-winning reassuring smiles. She smiles back, but weakly, and hurries off to handle a party of six that just walked in, the cold wind blowing at their backs and hitting everyone in the front dining room.

Apparently he’s not the only one who hadn’t been able to take the weather, because at the table directly in front of his, another two-seater, is occupied by a (rather handsome) single, drinking what smells like tea and consuming quite possibly the largest stack of chocolate chip and banana pancakes Jaehwan has ever seen. It’s almost impressive, the cool part being the fact that this stranger is basically eating one-handed and scribbling furiously in a notebook. He’s wearing these wire-rimmed, round-frame glasses that make him look almost studious as he stares down intently at his own work.

Jaehwan swears, when the waitress ambles on by to fill his coffee cup, that he might be in love. Just a little bit.

The diner is only getting more crowded by the minute, what with everyone else’s reluctance to reemerge into the cold. Pretty soon someone smacks into the serious young dude sitting across from Jaehwan, and he looks up, a particular softness around his eyes that changes his demeanor instantly. “What the hell,” he murmurs, mouth barely moving, and Jaehwan laughs, bright and enthusiastic.

“You okay?” he asks, finally filling the space between them with sound for the first time, fixing up his cup of coffee (four cream, two sugar). The spoon in the ceramic makes a clanking noise that almost disappears in the chatter surrounding them. "It looks like you almost got your block knocked off there."

The stranger smiles in a reserved way, which simply will not do. Jaehwan has a lot of prides in this world, but his biggest is drawing people out of their shell. "Seriously, like, if someone hurts you again, lemme know. I'll rough 'em up back for you." He raises a clenched fist over his chest, pressing it to his breastbone, and the guy actually laughs, if only a little bit. "Hi there," he greets, fist becoming an open-handed wave, the friendly kind, not the flirty kind (even though his gut tells him to do the latter regardless). "I'm Jaehwan. I, um, don't think I've seen you around campus? Which...yeah, that's possible, 'cause I'm only ever in about four places, and two of them are my house, but..."

It doesn't escape his notice that the guy has gone back to writing, stare intense enough to set fire to his own notebook. It's a wonder he doesn't, Jaehwan thinks, blowing on his cup of coffee before taking a sip, his fingertips drumming idly on the piping-hot sides of it.

"I'm Wonsik," says the stranger at long last, looking up for just a second and offering a grin that feels like home, in a weird way, comforting, enveloping, caring. "Sorry, I just...this is due in about an hour or so, and I'm trying to get it finished."

"Oh, that's fine." And normally, Jaehwan would be considerate, let it drop. He has every intention to. But then the waitress approaches him, looking highly harried.

"Hey, do you know him?" she asks, a hand on her hip, gesturing to where Wonsik is sitting. "Because we need the tables, and if you two are friends..."

We're not, Jaehwan wants to say, if only for accuracy purposes. But he picks up his coffee cup and sits where he's asked to sit anyway, apparently startling Wonsik to the point that the colour in his cheeks darkens when he looks up. "Sorry," Jaehwan says with a bow of his head.

Wonsik just sort of nods, runs his hand through his hair, and sets down his pen. "I'm mostly finished anyway. Just gotta look it over before handing it off to my professor." He smiles in that reserved way again, like he's waiting for something tragic to happen, and Jaehwan wants to explain it to him that nothing negative is coming of this, but it doesn't seem particularly appropriate. "I only go about four places, and two of them are my studio, so I get you."

"You were listening." Jaehwan's mouth forms an 'o' of wonderment.

"Yeah, always," says Wonsik with a laugh, as if pleased to earn this reaction.

"You have a studio."

"For recording. I'm a music major." Wonsik busies his hands with his pancakes, stuffing a seemingly impossible bite into his mouth, his cheeks puffing out cutely. "It means that I spend a lot of time at this diner working on compositions. I think this is the first time I've been in here in a month without my laptop and headphones."

"Wait, a music major?" Jaehwan shakes his head, reaches across the table to take Wonsik's hands in his, squinting, trying to recall if he's ever met someone quite so dashing as this. "I'm a musical theatre major. How do I not know you? You've probably made me sing once or twice..." Wonsik chokes on his tea. "Kidding. Maybe. Seriously, I've never seen you in my life."

"Everything happens for a reason," Wonsik points out, his forearms tensing, as if wanting to resist while simultaneously wanting to hold on. "I actually have to go in a minute, but...uh..." He pauses a long while, searching for the words. "Has anyone told you how cute you are, uh, ever?"

Jaehwan takes his hands back, leans into his own chair, bats his eyelashes. "Who, me? Never. Not one time."

"You're really, really cute." Another pause. "Can I call you sometime?"

With a brilliant smile, Jaehwan pulls his phone out of his coat pocket, slides it across the table. "Give me your number, then," he encourages. They exchange numbers, and Jaehwan saves Wonsik's number with a cheering emoji.

They part ways, Jaehwan staring at his own reflection in the screen of his phone, eyes half-lidded and serene. He feels when Wonsik leaves the diner, the wind blowing the steam still half-heartedly rising from his coffee. Somewhere in the dark places of his mind, Jaehwan thinks he’ll never see or hear from Wonsik again, that he’ll just be another number in his contacts without a face.

But Wonsik's barely out the door when Jaehwan gets a text, phone lighting up, interruping his own self-evaluation. _Is it sometime yet?_

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/takoyaken) if you want more updates about how much writing i'm not doing


End file.
